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I don’t mention what might happen if they are.

I think they’ve got the fucking gist.

I can’t say I’m entirely surprised when, after locking up Gaia and the gun I hope I never have to touch again, I scale the porch steps and find a man waiting on the swing.

The dog resting her head in his lap yips quietly at my approach, a canine question that gets repeated in human form. “Where were you?”

It’s not an accusation, not even close, but past experience has me taking it as one. “None of your business.”

We both wince.

“Fuck.” I rake a hand through my hair, swallowing the emotion of the day—frustration. “Sorry.”

While Finn might accept my apology, Grouch does not.

She whines, nuzzling the thigh beneath her chin.

I take a step in their direction and she actually growls, and when I whistle for her to jump down, she ignores me.

It’s not until Finn gently repeats the command that she obliges, huffing as she settles at his feet instead.

“You stole my dog,” I accuse softly, daring to take the vacated spot on the swing.

“You stole my horse,” Finn counters, and I wince again.

Busted.

Tucking my fidgeting hands beneath my thighs, I shrug. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Me neither,” Finn says, and I wonder if I didn’t sneak out as much as he let me go. “You went for a ride?”

“Uh-huh.”

“You should’ve told someone.”

“Someone would’ve stopped me.”

“I would’ve come with you.”

“I needed a minute alone.”

Contrary to what I brace for, Finn doesn't get offended. He doesn’t get hurt or pissy; he just kisses my temple and stands up.

“Hey, hey, hey,” I chide gently, grabbing his hand. “Minute’s over, cowboy.”

There it is. That smile. Muted and laced with concern, but no less stunning. Warm against my forehead as Finn stoops, burning hot against my lips as he pulls me to my feet. “If we go to bed, are you gonna stay there this time?”

“Depends.” I dance my fingers across the waistband of his pajama shorts, pretending to think about it. “You gonna keep me there?”

Dark eyes narrow. Zone in on my smiling mouth. Soften, as tender as the grip on my waist as Finn whisks me upstairs. Ushering me into my childhood bedroom, he locks Grouch out despite her whines, making something in me whine because I take the banishment as a very, very good sign.

And then I’m whining for different reasons because yes, he’s kissing me. Yes, he’s undoing the top button of my jeans and yanking them down enough for him to thumb my tattoo. He’s slipping his hands beneath my sweater and he’s pulling it off, he’s removing the rest of my clothes too.

But he’s reaching for my bag. Rustling around for pajamas. Stripping me down to my underwear only to re-dress me.

I stop him.

I let him pull my clothes off, but when he starts to replace them with pajamas, I stop him.

Fingering the hem of his t-shirt, I tease it upwards, rising on my tiptoes so I can pull it over his head. As I toss it to the side, I lean forward, kissing the base of his throat. “I’m sorry I ruined our date.”

A hand smoothes down the back of my head, tangling in the ends of my hair. “You didn’t ruin anything.”

I drag my mouth across his chest, trailing kisses along sculpted pectoral muscles. “I’m sorry for not talking to you.”

Again, he refutes my apology. “You never have to talk to me, baby.”

When my teeth graze a hard nipple, his breath hitches, he shudders. “I’m sorry I’m like this.”

That has him reeling back, cupping my face, dipping to kiss me hard and way too briefly. “The only thing you’re like ,” he rasps firmly, “is fucking perfect. Okay? You’re like something out of a goddamn dream.”

I blush. I smile. I fucking glow as I bask in the sweetest, sincerest compliment I’ve ever received, yet I still feel the need to cheapen it. “A wet dream?”

Finn groans.

One hand gripping my upper thigh, he lifts me easily. My legs lock around his waist, a waist I paw at desperately, trying to shove down the loose shorts he fell asleep in.

Which are all he fell asleep in, I soon learn.

Finn drops me on the bed before finishing what I started, stripping off just as eagerly as I tried to strip him. I get five seconds to admire him, not nearly enough time, before he sinks to his knees.

I sit up, shaking my head even though the thought of his between my thighs damn near induces a spontaneous orgasm. “Baby, I can’t be quiet.”

Growling a noise that makes me laugh, he dives onto the bed, lifting me again and shifting us so he’s on his back with me straddling his chest. In another smooth move, he hikes me up further until I’m hovering above his face, my knees on either side of his head, my cunt right above his mouth.

“Find a way,” is all he says before yanking me down.

And fucking feasting .

I slap a hand over my mouth, biting the heel of my palm, but it doesn’t work, I’m still too fucking loud, and God, I don’t know if the two fingers that crook inside me are a punishment or a reward.

As his tongue relentlessly laves at my clit, Finn hits a spot inside me that turns my limbs to jelly and I lose my balance.

I fall forward, my fingers curling around the headboard, and then I’m biting that instead, my teeth sinking into the wood as I squeeze my eyes shut, my head swimming as I fight to hold in a scream.

Three.

That’s how many orgasms he wrenches out of me before he’s satisfied. Before I beg for mercy and he grants it, moving me down his body until I hover above the long, hard cock I would do terrible things to feel inside me.

One hand braced on his chest, the other lines him up. Rising on shaky knees, I notch him right where I want him, sinking down just the tiniest bit, just enough for the heat of him to scorch me, before a hand locks around my wrist.

“Lottie,” Finn groans. “Condom.”

“Shit.” My head drops forward, my eyes locking on where the tip of his cock nudges my cunt. “I don’t care.”

Please don't care.

“I have an IUD. I got tested in rehab. I’m good.”

Finn curses. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure that I don’t have any condoms up here and if you don’t get inside me soon I might die.”

Finn chokes a laugh.

My thighs burn, the need burning between them damn near painful, but I don’t drop, not yet. “Do you not want to?”

He laughs again. He repeats the question. And then he rolls his fucking eyes and, wearing a smirk that borders on evil, he thrusts up into me.

I bite my lip hard enough to draw blood.

His fingernails dig into the thin skin of my inner wrists, an accompanying sting to the stretch of my cunt around his cock.

I’m so wet I’m dripping all over my thighs, all over his too, and it’s still not enough.

I still have to work to fit him inside me.

“Fuck.” I’m panting, clammy with exertion already. “You’re so fucking big.”

He brings my hand to his mouth, nipping at the thickest part of my thumb before groaning against my palm, “Are you trying to make me come already?”

My turn to smirk now, I take a deep breath and drop .

Every inch of him buried inside me, Finn moans so loudly, I cover his mouth—I cover my own when his face twists with so much pleasure, when he fucking whimpers against my skin, and I can’t resist mimicking the noise. “I’m not entirely opposed to the idea.”

In fact, I quite like it. Having him that on edge, demolishing his control that quickly. Already, he’s breathing heavily, he’s so swollen inside of me, his whole body shudders, and it makes me feel better. Less out of my depth. Less nervous because as familiar as this is to me… well, it also isn’t.

Locking down those pesky nerves, I start to move in rapid rolls that have his head thrashing against the pillow. I throw my own back and speed up, find the rhythm I know, frantically chasing the pleasure I know we’re both craving the only way I know how, rushing .

“Baby, baby, baby.” Firm hands still me, and I open my eyes to find Finn frowning. “Stop.”

I do. I shift until he slips out of me, frowning too as I sit back on his thighs, as panicked insecurity replaces any pleasure. “Am I doing something wrong?”

Finn shakes his head, looking confused by the question, bewildered by the concept. “Just… slow down.”

Fuck. Fuck . I slump, bracketing the base of my throat like I can pluck out the raw embarrassment settling there. “Sorry.” My voice wobbles. “I… I don’t know what I’m doing.”

That frown intensifies. “What?”

“I’ve never done this before.” My nails bite into my skin, a sting that does nothing to abate the burn of mortification. “I’ve never been sober before.”

Finn stills.

I watch my admission peel back his skin and wriggle beneath it, flaying him the same way it does me.

Slowly, he sits up. And even though a forearm remains plastered to my lower back, keeping me on his lap as he shifts to perch on the edge of the bed, and he’s still hard against my stomach, I know I’ve ruined the mood.

I’ve fucked it. I won’t be fucking him . I—

I gasp when his cock slides through my pussy. Hard . Nudges my clit, and I stutter a breath, I moan the next one, I gaze at him, wide-eyed, questioning.

He gazes back. Determined. Hot. Scalding , as he starts that tortuous slide inside of me once more, stuffing me full inch by fucking inch.

He kisses me just as slow, leisurely, our lazy tongues a warring contrast against the bruising grip he has on my thighs, just above where my knees dig into the mattress.

Once he’s as far inside of me as he can get, so deep I can barely breathe, let alone move, he coasts his hands higher, finding my hips and guiding them into a gentle roll.

“Slow,” he reminds me.

Slow , I repeat silently. I can do slow. I can do anything for him—I will.

“There you go,” he praises as I move so achingly slow, and my breath hitches, my chest flushes—his eyes track the growing patch of red like a hunter tracking prey. Knuckles drag down my sternum, over my trembling torso, coming to a stop just below my belly button. “You feel me, Lot?”

I gasp a desperate yes.